The Disgrace Of A Waste Of A Life
by NextTimeI'llBeStronger
Summary: How I imagined Archer's death would have happened (Fire, chapter 26). Inspired by the Dellian Lament before the prologue.


Harsh winter wind stung the exposed skin of Archer's face as he pushed his horse faster on the hard rocky ground. They'd been riding for nearly a week, at first crossing and then following the Winged River until they neared the western Great Grays traveling north to Cutter's. An image of Fire popped into his mind and he had to fight to push it away, he needed to focus right now, they were close. The sun was high and Archer could see a line of grey smoke rising into the cloudless sky. _Cutter._ He recited his plan in his head. Find Cutter, the boy with the red eye, and the archer; and kill them. He smiled grimly, he could practically hear Fire asking him what kind of plan that was. Short, sweet, and to the point; that's what kind of plan it was.

Archer pulled his horse to stop before the house was within sight and heard the four soldiers he'd taken with him do the same. He turned to look at them. "Cutter is just up ahead," he said. The soldiers nodded silently, Brigan's soldiers were obedient to a fault. He grimaced at the thought of Brigan, he could see Brigan in his head all too clearly looking at Fire when he thought no one was watching.

They started towards the house again, within a matter of minutes they could see it, a collection of grey stone buildings; a house, a stable, and what looked like a shed or greenhouse, and then a series of large cages. Monster beasts of varying colors roared and screeched and paced uneasily as Archer and his guard rode past. A green leopard monster's golden eyes followed them as they approached the house.

Archer leapt from his horse's back and stormed up towards the house, not bothering to tie his horse to something. Archer reached for the doorknob and wrenched the door open, behind him he could hear his guard scrambling to tie their horses down and follow him. He could see a warm glow from a fire down the dim hallway through an open doorway to the left. Archer didn't even try to be quiet as he stalked through the house and into the fire lit room.

Cutter sat dumbfounded in a large, plush burgundy chair, watching with dull eyes as Archer and his guard barged into the room. The boy with grey and red eyes stood across from him, leaning against the mantle over the fireplace and picking at his nails, a bored expression plastered across his face. And a sickly looking man with pale blonde hair stood in the corner behind the boy, a long bow in his hand and white arrows in the quiver on his back. _The archer._

It had been year since Archer had last scene Cutter, after Cansrel's death there was no need for the Monster smuggler to keep coming by, Brocker wouldn't buy from him, Fire wouldn't even look at him. Even through those years though Archer could still recognize the short rounded man. "Cutter," Archer said, through gritted teeth.

Cutter's brow was furrowed as he looked over Archer, spying the bow in Archer's hand registration flickered across his face. "Archer." His voice was hoarse. "My, my, it has been years. Come all this way to find a gift for your lady Monster?"

"Not from you," Archer answered gruffly. Archer's eyes flickered over to the boy, his bored demeanor still there but a definite curiosity in his eyes. "What do you know about the trespassers caught on my father's property?" he asked, turning his attention back to Cutter.

"Nothing," the boy answered for Cutter.

"Nothing," Cutter repeated, a glazed and empty look in his eyes.

"You sure about that?"

"Quite," Cuter started before Archer bowled into him, knocking Cutter and the chair to the wooden floor.

Archer leaned above Cutter, his bow resting between him and one of the chair's armrests, an arrow in his hand pressed against Cutter's throat. "You're lying!" Archer shouted. A thin line of blood started to trail down Cutter's neck, over his Adams apple and pooled in the hollow of his throat.

"Jod," the boy said, his tone dull and flat. Archer heard the familiar sound of a bowstring being drawn back and knew the archer had an arrow aimed at his back.

Slowly, Archer stood and turned. Sure enough, the archer's white arrow was aimed at Archer. Any doubt Archer may have had in his mind vanished in that second. Archer's right hand crept to his quiver in search for his bow before realizing it was on the knocked down chair. Silently, he cursed himself for being thoughtless.

Archer's guard, drew their weapons a steely look in their eyes. Archer raised a hand, halting them.

"Is this the only reason you came here?" Cutter asked, raising himself to his feet.

"Let's go," Archer said, ignoring Cutter's question. He turned around, painfully aware of the archer and his arrow as he grabbed his bow and started toward the door. His guard still poised, ready for a fight, waiting for Archer to leave first.

"Send my regards to Lady Fire," the boy called after Archer as he started through the door.

The fire in Archer's body intensified and he spun around to face the boy. The boy smiled as if he expected him to, maybe even wanted him to. Archer stalked towards him and grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt, pulling him until their faces were even. "What was that?" he asked.

"Jod," the boy said, a strange look in his eyes.

Archer heard the sound of an arrow being released. He let go of the boy and dove for the floor, the arrow whistling overhead as he somersaulted back up to his feet. He whipped an arrow from his quiver and strung it to his bow, aiming for the archer and releasing before rising to his feet. Jod was fast, as fast Archer; he was on the move getting behind Archer and string an arrow to his bow as he ran. Archer reached for another arrow as he turned to face Jod. He released his arrow just as Jod did, his arrow whizzing past Jod and slicing his cheek as Jod ducked to the side. Jod's arrow, however, found its mark, embedding itself in Archer's stomach. He groaned and watched blood start to seep through his layers.

From the corner of his eye, Archer saw his guard spring into action all lunging towards Jod. "Stop!" the boy shouted. "You don't want to fight him." Archer's guard stopped dead, and Archer saw their eyes glaze over.

Archer looked down at the white arrow sticking out from his abdomen. He remembered telling Fire that it was cruel to shoot someone in the stomach because it was a slow death. Already, he could feel his limbs becoming heavier and he dropped his bow onto the carpet. It must have been laced with something, a poison, a paralytic, anything. He felt himself tilt to one side and before he could even comprehend it he was falling to the floor.

Archer opened his eyes against the pain in stomach, the boy hovered above him. "Luven, Marik, come take him behind the stables." His red eye gleamed and his mouth quirked up into a cruel smile. Archer felt hands grab his arms and pull him, through half lidded eyes he could see his feet leaving two trails in the snow outside and underneath those trails he saw the brown ground. They dropped him, his head hitting the hard ground. When he opened his eyes again the boy was walking away. "I'll be sure to pass your regards onto Lady Fire when I see her," he said not turning around. "You won't live to see her here."

Archer's body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, but his mind was as agile as ever. He wasn't poisoned, this much he knew, it must be a paralytic. He fought with himself, he willed himself to move, to crawl to a horse. He had to warn Fire. It was useless, he was unable to move but he still tried, he tried and tried again until it was dark and the cold more than unbearable. He tried again and his hand shifted, the paralytic was wearing off, all he had to do was get to a horse. He reached above his head to pull himself toward the stable door. He muffled a cry of pain, the arrow was buried deep within his stomach.

Archer looked up at the sky, two stars were all he could see, two lonely stars. He'd heard rumors of what dying felt like, some said you saw your life flash before your eyes and your last moments are pleasant aside from the pain, others said you thought only of your regrets. The latter was true for Archer. He saw Fire in his mind, the look in her eyes when he'd told Nash and the other royal siblings what she had done to her father. He saw Clara and Mila, their stomachs swelling with his children. His saw his father Brocker sitting in his chair, a sad look in his soft grey eyes. He closed his eyes, trying to erase those images and remember his good memories, the ones of him and Fire in her bed, of him sitting on his father's lap as a child; but it was useless, all his could see were his regrets.

He saw Fire again, and he thought of that old Dellian lament. He had lived a wasted life. Maybe, if he hadn't been so jealous, maybe Fire would still love him. _Archer! Keep a strong mind. Go safely. I love you. _Those were her last words to him. What were his last words to her? _Goodbye, Fire._ That's all he had said to her. A wasted life was an understatement.

He'd failed her, Archer suddenly thought to himself as he fought against closing his heavy eyelids. This boy was going to bring her here, he was going to sell her or use her. _I failed you._ He let his eyes close. The last thing he saw in his mind was her smile, and the last thing he heard was her voice in his head saying his name. _Archer._


End file.
